The Ragamuffin

Jimmy Lee & The Edge of Chaos Orchestra

To bring his music to life Jimmy has put together some of the finest musicians that he knows to form ‘The Edge of Chaos Orchestra’ combining classical and traditional instruments that sail through a challenging variety of genres....

This album is a humdinger!” Rightly demonstrating the exceptional talent which is Jimmy Lee. His own self-penned material will surely see him receiving kudos beyond his wildest dreams!

Maverick Magazine - review RH

£9.99 inc. UK P&P

CD Catalogue No JL02 — All compositions, music and lyrics, written and produced by Jimmy Lee

Lyrics

Lucy Cartwright

When I was only eight or nineI thought that I was kingWith all the wondrous things I had It seemed like everythingA catapult a penknifeA shilling and a piece of stringA bike without a saddleAnd a bell that wouldn’t ring

I couldn’t wait to get to schoolI ran there all the wayIn the afternoon run home again Tea, then out to playSometimes bow and arrowsSometimes climbing treesBuild a camp or light a fireHappy days for me

In my ‘brand new’ clothes that did not fitSomeone else had worn beforePlayed fantastic games of make believeWith my friend who lived next doorHer name was Lucy CartwrightShe was seven nearly eight A ‘tomboy’ who was kind too me In my ‘ragamuffin’ state

We did everything togetherShe was everything to meShe helped me stealing bird’s eggsCarved our names upon a treeSitting in the orchardPicking hard skin off our kneesRunning home to parentsCalling on the breeze

Riding in our ‘pram wheel’ cartsShow me show you mineWe said that we’d get marriedThat’s quite serious when you’re nineWe must have really meant it That promise for all timeSealed with a kiss of innocenceAs she held her hand in mine

I walked on air spokeI spoke too fast Until that dreadful day When I ran round to Lucy’s houseTo see if she could playA stranger opened up the doorThrough a mist I heard him sayI’m sorry son she is not hereThe Cartwright’s have moved away

I held on tight to somethingClenched my fists in disbeliefPlunged both hands into my pocketsBowed my head to hide my griefI never saw my friend againWhere she went I could nit sayThe day my heart was brokenWhen the Cartwright’s moved away

Oh I wish I was still eight or nineI wish I was still kingI wish I had me catapultA shilling and a piece of stringMe bike without a saddle And a bell that didn’t ringWith Lucy on me crossbarI wouldn’t need thing

With Lucy Cartwright on my crossbarOnce more I’d be king

Songography

Lucy Cartwright

When I was 7 yrs old, reunited, our family moved to a small isolated hamlet of five or six cottages where all of us young kids played and roamed freely on downland, fields and forest….I had never known such happiness. The farmer’s daughter Lucy became my best friend and we were inseparable. She could fight, climb, run and swear with the best of us and she was very pretty! It really broke my heart when she moved away but that’s how things were in those days. I still lament the loss of my friend and the loss of childhood innocence which comes to us all, and I mourn that breathless joy that never returns.

Lyrics

When I'm In Need Of You

Come my love and sit down here beside meA touch a smile a kiss kick off you shoesI’ll light a candle wonderful to see youWhile I fill your cup please tell me all your news

I can’t believe that you’re not with meI can’t believe that you’re not nearI can’t believe you’ve gone foreverSo do you mind if I pretend that you’re still here

Hush awhile my love I’ll close the curtainsI couldn’t bear for anyone to seeThrough the window who it is I’m talking tooThey won’t understand and they might think it’s me

Take my hand, come and grace the tableIn case you call I always lay for twoTurning down the bed my hands were shaking At the thought that I might once more cradle you

That time has come again my heart is breakingYes, I hope I’ve brought you comfort tooYou’ll come to me again of that I’m certainYou always seem to know when I’m in need of you

Songography

When I'm In Need Of You

I’m not sure where this song came from but it is very personal and pleasing although sometimes difficult to sing. Imagination is sometimes more powerful than reality and sometimes reality is too painful to bare. Comfort comes to us in its own time and in its own way.

Songography

The Christmas Waltz (instr.)

My memories of the build up and anticipation of Christmas as a child, were and still are, very powerful. Those magic evenings when the excitement of the approaching day was unbearable compounded by small changes in the behaviour of parents and friends as the ‘big day’ drew near. Heralded preparations that were undeniably going to add to that most wonderful moment when Christmas day arrived and gleefully suffering the painful wait of a child who wanted so much for his world to be magical on that day, and for evermore! No longer a child, I stand outside of my childhood home on a cold crisp winter’s night peering through the window to see myself and my loved ones as they were in those days of yore, happy and content with all suffering and hardship banished by the warmth and joy that Christmas brings. I long to enter the window to dance with the memories and embrace those feelings lost to childhood.

Lyrics

The Days Of Eighty Eight

Do you remember Suzy the days of eighty eightWe all lived together behind a broken gateThere were lilacs in the garden blue Iris by the wallAnd you were in the kitchen and that’s the best of all

I see it o so clearly now the wood shed and the storeDark cupboard and a pantry and some stairs behind a doorThe cinders by the ‘out house’ where we were made to goThe wash tub and the mantelpiece, lamps and fire glow

The smell of something cooking ‘black leading’ on the grateThe teardrops and the laughter how they rang round eighty eightDon’t tell me you don’t miss it. It simply isn’t true As the memories surround me I can only think of you

Sweet memory don’t leave me of when we were in bedI shared it with my cousins, Grandpa, Jim and poor old TedAnd you would light a candle to chase away the gloomAnd you voice would carry fairy tales and wonder to my room

Your daddy had three daughters we lost the other twoBut the good lord in his wisdom gave all there love to youAnd Suzy you much older now, there’s tired on your faceAn angel on each shoulder one is Jean and one is Grace

Those days have gone forever the days of eighty eightWe don’t live together and there is no broken gateNo Lilacs in the garden no Iris by the wall No Suzy in the kitchen and that’s the worst of all

Songography

The Days Of Eighty Eight

I was six when my brother and I went live with my Aunt at 88 Burpham near Arundel in a thatched cottage, no water or electricity and just two bedrooms. My Aunt ‘Suzy’, a widow, also cared for her own three children and another two children of her sister Grace who had been orphaned plus her Father and Brother. In all there were 14 of us huddled together in that tiny cottage as ‘poor as church mice’ but I still remember the love, warmth and kindness that Suzy showed.

Lyrics

Absolution

When I get to heaven will the good lord break meOr will he take me just as I amOr will the things that disgrace me make the devil embrace meOr is absolution still a part of the plan

‘cos I climbed every mountain that you put before meSwam very ocean, river and stormy sea Never stayed in the harbour, couldn’t a worked any harderBut I’ve got the feelin that the ceilin’s fallin in on me

Well I didn’t get it all wrong, thanks for the ‘bird song’And all the wondrous things found on the streetBut when you walked there beside me, why didn’t you guide me?Or was the devil on your level when he grabbed a hold of my feet

Well I’ve walked a long way, maybe the wrong wayDo you think that it’s too late to turn me around?Because I’ve seen what’s before me, God you gotta call me!‘cos if I ain’t lost how the hell can I be found!

Songography

Absolution

Don’t wait until it’s too late!

Songography

The Empty Room (instr.)

I have long had this image of a room rather like the ‘old fashioned’ drawing room. Through my mind’s eye I can still see it very clearly. It was panelled with a bureau and a piano. I am standing in the doorway looking in. Opposite me are two French windows, the one on the left is open with a slight breeze moving the drawn curtains. It is early morning and as I gaze around the room my eyes rest on a photograph on the bureau of a young man in uniform as my eyes roam I see another and yet another and more. I wonder who all of these people are. I have not known them and yet they are here in my home.Years later I recalled this incident and described it to my Father who recognised my memory. It was the sitting room in my grandfather’s house and the photographs were of all the men in the family who did not return from the First and Second World War and whose loss had such a profound effect on all of our lives both now and then. All of these wonderful people who I did not know. To be denied there presence in my life seems selfish compared to there own suffering and loss. Never the less, it did and still does make me very angry. The Empty Room is my requiem for them. It is for my love, my gratitude, my outrage, my anger, my sorrow and contempt for those who brought this about.I have tried to express all of those emotions in the piece… it makes me very sad.

Lyrics

The Burma Star

Do I remember Seaford, just a toddler at the timeMen who left or came to save us far from home and in there primeBarbed wire on the beaches the bombs and the aeroplanesBright blue sky’s and ‘dog fights’ soldiers marching down the lanes

From Vale road down to East street past the school and the old sea wallThe powdered milk the ration books I can recall them allLong empty years of loneliness turned my Mothers heart to stoneForgot she had a Soldier, is he ever coming home?

We played together freely, John, Billy, Anne and mePlayed soldiers on the South Downs sometimes paddled in the seaAnd I never felt neglected, no I never felt aloneNever knew what fear or hate was until it came into my home

In silent desperation and unimaginable painShe took the cause of indignation from the cradle to a trainHe was found by the Church of England fast asleep and all aloneThey granted him salvation but he’s never coming home

Then my world stood still and silence came to my prison without barsLong days that held no sunshine, nights that held no starsLost children to misfortune, someone must atoneThey said they’d come to save us but were never going home

Then freedom came to no ones gain, we might have well have lostStay on your knees forever mamma you’ll never count the costPaid by a ‘forgotten’ soldier so wounded from so farWhile fighting for salvation and a hard earned Burma Star

I have a vision of this soldier I’d never seen his face before He was pickin’ up the pieces that were broken by the warBroken dreams that never mended, a broken heart that turned to stoneHe prayed for her redemption as he wept for his lost home

So I remember Seaford the bombs and the aeroplanesThe barbed wire on the beaches soldiers marching down the lanesThe memories still with me even now that I am grownMy birthplace, lost salvation, and the first time I left home

Songography

The Burma Star

My Father went to war soon after I was born and was posted to Burma. He would not return for 5 years. When I was 3 and my older brother 4, we were taken into care suffering from neglect and malnutrition. The two of us spent the next three years in the darkest of places that only small children can find. My 1 year old brother was abandoned on a train and was found at Cuckfield station. He was taken in by the Church of England Children’s Society and eventually adopted. We found him 42 years later.I spent most of my life blaming my Father for our misfortune. It was not until late in my life that I learned the details…. So this is a tribute to my Dad….a true hero who I badly misjudged.

Songography

Journey's End (instr.)

Standing on top of a high cliff looking down into a bay … the sea is bright blue and calm and full of sunshine but in the distance, meeting the horizon, heavy seas and dark storm clouds are still clearly visible. Alone and without purpose a small sailing boat welcomes the security of the bay and its calm waters and seems to relinquish itself to the ‘safe harbour’.The boat with its tattered sails and torn rigging, bears and the obvious scars of a voyage that has been both rough and fearful and appears, like us, to be terribly small and frail to have survived such difficult times reminding us of our own journey through life and despite all the slings and arrows, it is better to have come through battered and bruised than not at all.The last passage in the piece reflects that spiritual moment of satisfaction and the sigh of relief and gratitude for having arrived at that place of safety where you can rest, safe in the knowledge that you don’t have to fight anymore.

Lyrics

Escanaba

I keep dreaming of my homeI feel blue and all aloneBut can’t you see EscanabaYou’ll do for me

Winter wind you sure blow coldAnd living here a man could grow oldOr freeEscanaba you’ll do for me

You sure must be pretty in the fallWe’d like to hang around to see you allBut were moving on Escanaba were moving on

Cos I keep dreaming of my home I feel blue and all aloneBut can’t you seeEscanaba you’ll do for me

We’d like to have the time to hang aroundAnd stay awhile around your townBut we’re, movin on EscanabaWe’re movin on

Escanaba you treated us good Escanaba they said that you wouldEscanaba you’ll do for me

Songography

Escanaba

A small town in Northern Michigan USA where I played my first gig on our regular USA tours. We were very popular and got ‘held over’ for 3 weeks. February in Escanaba, not far from the Canadian border, is very, very cold but the people were great and showed us a good time…. So I wrote you this song… hope you like it! Thanks Escanaba!